Blurred Lines

My imagination ran away with me on this one.

            The sun beat down on me as I walked, shoulders hunched, across the barren stretch of land. My feet hit the hard-baked ground in a steady rhythm, and I could feel the dryness of my tongue every time my lungs struggled to take in the scorching air. I squinted in the glare from the sun, just able to make out my destination. The agency. Inside, it would be safe and cool. I would be debriefed on my mission to secure the package I had set out for and applauded for braving the blistering heat of the desert. I imagined ice-cold water running down my throat, almost laughing for joy as I hopped up the steps to the establishment and reached out for the door.

~*~

          I dropped the mail on the kitchen counter and went to the fridge to get a bottle of water. Here in Texas, it was August, hot enough to literally fry an egg on the sidewalk. My little brother ate a sidewalk egg for lunch yesterday. Even walking the few hundred feet to the mailbox was enough to make me work up a sweat. I checked the clock. 1:30. Why did I decide to do this during the hottest part of the day again? I didn’t have any good answer to that.

          Allow me to introduce myself. I’m an aerospace engineer, and I have recently developed a rocket that will travel at nearly the speed of light, enabling astronauts to―

          Wait, wait, wait. Sorry. Let me start again. I’m a physician, working at one of the most technologically advanced hospitals in the world, with the best diagnostic team―

          Okay. That was the last time, I promise. I’m going to say this before I lose focus: I’m a normal fifteen-year-old girl with a slight . . . eccentricity. A quirk. A singularity. An abnormality. Whatever the politically correct term happens to be, I’ve got a problem. With daydreaming.

          Ever since I was a young child, trekking with my parents through the rainforests of South America . . . Did I do it again? I’m sorry. Bear with me here. I’ve always had an overactive imagination. Always. Especially this summer, when my parents leave me at home all day to go save people’s lives and whatnot (no really, they’re doctors), so I’m alone. When I’m alone, I’m bored. When I’m bored, I slip into fantasy. I dream about everything from sweet romance to the apocalypse. The line blurs between reality and what’s in my mind, and sometimes I feel like I’m trapped somewhere in the middle, not quite in the real world and not quite a dream either.

          I’m also a writer. I try to put my very best daydreams down on paper somehow or another, but if I were to write a story for every one of them, my hand would be constantly cramped. I wouldn’t be able to relax my hand enough to let go of the pencil at the end of the day. It’s a beautiful thing, writing.

          I hopped up the stairs to my living quarters in the building. It was a secret government agency, and I was one of their most trusted and intelligent operative. I glanced about the room. A high-tech super computer rested on a wooden desk under some papers for school, and a state-of-the-art but concise library of all the information I needed was in one corner, with works by great scientists such as J.K. Rowling and James Patterson. A high-security safe sat on top of the dresser, keenly disguised as a spotted purple porcelain pig. On the bed there were several extremely well-trained guard animals of various species that moved so little you’d think they were stuffed.

          I moved over to the window and looked out across the desert I had just crossed. The sun made heat waves rise from the asphalt, and there wasn’t a cloud to be seen in the entire sky. I stood tall and still, military style, scanning the area for potential threats. A black vehicle came into view, tearing across the sand towards a nearby government building. They’d found our secret location! I dropped, rolled, grabbed a hard object off the ground, and stood back on my feet with the revolver in my hands, my back against the wall right next to the window. Nerves tingling with tension, I stole a peek outside and saw a boy of about seventeen exit the vehicle and begin to look around.

          I cocked my weapon, took aim at the enemy spy, and fired . . . right as he happened to be glancing over at my window. I quickly dropped the gun and attempted to unstuck the Nerf dart from the glass. Fired from close range, it was holding on tight. I gave it a sharp yank and tumbled backwards onto the floor, dart in hand. My neighbor Luke could be heard from across the street, laughing his a*s off. My smart neighbor Luke. My attractive neighbor Luke. My neighbor Luke who was now convinced I was a freak and a complete idiot. I sat hunched on the floor in shame, internally screaming at myself for being such a royal imbecile, wondering why I always had to get so into―

          Plunk. I glanced up from my mental self-punishment to see a dart stuck on the other side of the window. Curious, I looked out again to see Luke, standing outside with his little brother’s Nerf gun pointed at me, one eyebrow raised like he was saying, Whatcha gonna do about it?

          This meant war! I threw open the window, his dart falling off into the bushes below, and opened fire.

          Of the five rounds I had left, two of them hit him, one hit his car and stuck, and he got four shots into my window before we both ran out of ammo. For a moment, it was just stupid, childish, nonsensical fun that we both loved. But now I felt shy, blushing a little, wanting to get away but not wanting to end this . . . whatever it was.

          “Quite some aim you’ve got there,” he called up to me, gesturing to the dart on his car. It was stuck right in the middle of the back window.

          “Thanks,” I said, blushing more. I felt a bit tingly at the complement, even though it was a random, half-sarcastic one.

          “So, Katie, I was wondering if, maybe sometime, um . . .”

          He was going to ask me out! He was going to ask me out! He was going to ask me―

          “Eeek!”―Thud. That’s the sound of a teenage girl falling out of a window.

          “Katie!” I heard his footsteps running to me before I felt the pain in my head and arm.

          The last thing I saw was him crouching down to pick me up before I blacked out.

~*~

          I was conscious before my eyes were open, and I used the time to assess where I was before anyone found out I was awake. I could have been captured by the enemy, and it was imperative that I find out as much as possible. I listened hard. A slow, steady beeping came from somewhere nearby, and two people were in the room with me, conversing quietly. A door opened and closed, and another person walked in. One of the people in the room stood up.

          “Doctor, is she alright?” said my mother’s anxious voice.

          “Yes,” a calm female voice answered. “Just a slight concussion and a sprained wrist. She should be waking up any moment now.”

          My eyes snapped open.

          “When can I go home?” I asked. All three adults looked at me, surprised. “Am I allowed to sit up?”

          I did so without waiting for the doctor to answer.

          “How long have I been out for?” I asked.

          The doctor checked her watch and said, “About forty-five minutes.”

          “How’d I get here?” I asked, turning to my parents.

          “That boy from across the street rushed you here, then called us from your cell phone and told us you fell,” said my stepdad. “Now would you mind telling us what you were doing exactly to make you―”

          “Katie! You’re up!”

          Luke came through the door accompanied by my little brother. He handed a couple coffees to my parents and a Snickers bar to me. Aw! He brought me chocolate while I was injured! It was so sweet of him. As I tried to open the wrapper though, I noticed a black Velcro cast-thing on my left wrist.

          “Let me get that for you,” said Luke.

          He opened the wrapper and handed it back to me.

          “Thanks.”

          I couldn’t help grinning like an idiot.

          “No problem.”

          He grinned back. My parents gave him the Glare That Makes Marine Guys Cry, but neither of us noticed. I will never forget the day I fell in love with the enemy.

~*~

          Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Katie, teenage, writer, physician, special agent, aerospace engineer, zombie hunter, super human, lover, and dreamer. Got all that?

Reviews

[Poetic Wolf]

This was fantastic! I can so relate to the precision insanity of it all. I thought that your ink had it's humor woven wonderfully with the action sequences.

Great Ink!
Wolfie

[Eliza Bennet]

Me likey very mucho, you should make more :D
Kat :O